


to play a role of my witty strangler

by rinnosgen



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dubious Consent, F/F, POV Second Person, POV Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:01:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25127392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinnosgen/pseuds/rinnosgen
Summary: “I’ll bite down the flirty and silken tongue of yours, Hélène, so that you can’t seduce me like a viper any longer.”
Relationships: Villanelle/Helene
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	to play a role of my witty strangler

**Author's Note:**

  * For [In_the_grey_sky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_the_grey_sky/gifts), [LaFlashdrive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaFlashdrive/gifts).
  * A translation of [to play a role of my witty strangler](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24607732) by [rinnosgen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinnosgen/pseuds/rinnosgen). 



> A canon divergence of 307.  
> Enjoy! :D

The gloomy landscape outside the window is blurred by foggy drizzle. You stand by the frame, fingers tracing the orbits of gliding raindrops on the cold glass, portraying imaginary lines. In the vast hall, the firewood in the fireplace is burning fiercely, making delicate cracks from time to time.

Hélène prowls towards you. Her left hand wearing a bracelet and rings skims the side of your neck from behind and rests on your right cheek; her fingerprints caress the joint skin between your jawline and your neck. You inhale the strong perfume from her wrist, a smoky, woody, and musky taste.

“Do you know why I love you, Villanelle?” she asks quietly. You can feel her suggestive breaths in your ear.

“Because you’re an agent of chaos. And I love chaos,” She grabs you on your jaw, forcing your head to left. You stare at her with your eyes flaring with tears.

“Chaos disrupts. It rips apart and starts again. It’s like a forest fire. It burns. It clears,” Hélène’s index finger painted in red nail polish outlines the corner of your mouth. It prods inside and tickle the roof of your mouth.

“It’s monstrous, but it’s beautiful,” she draws back the finger and reduces her distance between your lips, kissing you indifferently. Your teardrops fall down as you blink.

“Show me. Your injury.”

“Here,” you point vaguely at your upper left arm. Hélène’s slender right hand is like a snake. It slips into the neckline of your green leather trench coat, exploring you. Her grope brings you extreme pain. Biting on your bottom lip, you gasp.

“Are you still longing to kill me?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting,” she enfolds your body tight in her arms, taking you. The tip of her tongue pries open your sealed lips, then pressing hard on your teeth.

“Tell me, Villanelle, considering your current position, how’d you kill me?” the flat of her hand brushes over your chest, and roams down to fondle the region that swells with hot arousal.

“I’ll bite down the flirty and silken tongue of yours, Hélène, so that you can’t seduce me like a viper any longer.”

“I’m very looking forward to it,” Hélène undoes your belt. You let out an angry hiss as soon as her cold hand slides into your tailor pants. Your teeth nip on Hélène’s soft palm near your lips.

“Do not resist, Villanelle, you know you need this.”

“I don’t like you.”

“But you need me,” Hélène kisses you while using her skillful fingers to comfort you dexterously. You open your mouth, challenging her to come in.

“You have to behave.”

“Never,” your nails pinch Hélène’s wrist and your sharp teeth scratch the dorsum of her tongue. Hélène groans.

As you’re being gratified, you think about at what moment you should carry on your plan to kill her, but her French kisses continue to cast a bizarre spell on you. They delude you into loosening your mouth unrestrainedly, accepting more of her tricks.

“You’re a beautiful monster, Villanelle,” The hand on your throat begins to put a strain on you, tightening, causing you to choke and whimper. Your face turns red. Tears and saliva keep springing up.

The rain starts to pour. Your panting and wetness are interwoven with heavy rains, echoing in the great chamber.

“My beautiful monster,” she whispers. Your muscles intense, eyes closed, the whole body shudders blankly.

“A stray beast in so much distress and maelstrom,” Hélène kisses the crimson marks on your neck consolingly. You push her away and glare at her, as your eyes burn with tears. You come to kneel before her.

I’m a monster, you say, fingers tracing the buttons on Hélène’s suit pants.

My heart is full of darkness, you think, hands placing on her calves, tongue covering the heating damp inside her legs.

“You can leave, and you can escape, but you’ll return inevitably, because you have no place to go, do you, Villanelle?” she fixes your head firmly to her, looking down at you between her thighs. You humph oppressively, nails digging into her legs.

Warm fluid sheds into your mouth eventually. You lift up your wet face, looking at Hélène who is completely emotionless.

“Do you really love me, Hélène?”

“I love you dearly, Villanelle,” she’s stroking your cheeks, but her eyes are filled with unconcerned disinterest.

It’s always like this, you guffaw, face bathed in tears. Although no one has ever offered you affections, you still try so desperately to earn some useless reciprocation.

Your forehead leans to Hélène’s legs. Your limbs wrap around her knees.

In the night of wrathful storm, your howling is brutally drowned by the ruthless thunderstorm.


End file.
